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divulged; the Government had craftily filled the place with
minions; even the pensioner was not improbably a hireling in
disguise; and our emissary; without other aid or protection
than the simple apparatus in his bag; found himself
confronted by force; brutal force; that strong hand which was
a character of the ages of oppression。 Should he venture to
deposit the machine; it was almost certain that he would be
observed and arrested; a cry would arise; and there was just
a fear that the police might not be present in sufficient
force; to protect him from the savagery of the mob。 The
scheme must be delayed。 He stood with his bag on his arm;
pretending to survey the front of the Alhambra; when there
flashed into his mind a thought to appal the bravest。 The
machine was set; at the appointed hour; it must explode; and
how; in the interval; was he to be rid of it?
Put yourself; I beseech you; into the body of that patriot。
There he was; friendless and helpless; a man in the very
flower of life; for he is not yet forty; with long years of
happiness before him; and now condemned; in one moment; to a
cruel and revolting death by dynamite! The square; he said;
went round him like a thaumatrope; he saw the Alhambra leap
into the air like a balloon; and reeled against the railing。
It is probable he fainted。
When he came to himself; a constable had him by the arm。
'My God!' he cried。
'You seem to be unwell; sir;' said the hireling。
'I feel better now;' cried poor M'Guire: and with uneven
steps; for the pavement of the square seemed to lurch and
reel under his footing; he fled from the scene of this
disaster。 Fled? Alas; from what was he fleeing? Did he not
carry that from which he fled along with him? and had he the
wings of the eagle; had he the swiftness of the ocean winds;
could he have been rapt into the uttermost quarters of the
earth; how should he escape the ruin that he carried? We
have heard of living men who have been fettered to the dead;
the grievance; soberly considered; is no more than
sentimental; the case is but a flea…bite to that of him who
should be linked; like poor M'Guire; to an explosive bomb。
A thought struck him in Green Street; like a dart through his
liver: suppose it were the hour already。 He stopped as
though he had been shot; and plucked his watch out。 There
was a howling in his ears; as loud as a winter tempest; his
sight was now obscured as if by a cloud; now; as by a
lightning flash; would show him the very dust upon the
street。 But so brief were these intervals of vision; and so
violently did the watch vibrate in his hands; that it was
impossible to distinguish the numbers on the dial。 He
covered his eyes for a few seconds; and in that space; it
seemed to him that he had fallen to be a man of ninety。 When
he looked again; the watch…plate had grown legible: he had
twenty minutes。 Twenty minutes; and no plan!
Green Street; at that time; was very empty; and he now
observed a little girl of about six drawing near to him; and
as she came; kicking in front of her; as children will; a
piece of wood。 She sang; too; and something in her accent
recalling him to the past; produced a sudden clearness in his
mind。 Here was a God…sent opportunity!
'My dear;' said he; 'would you like a present of a pretty
bag?'
The child cried aloud with joy and put out her hands to take
it。 She had looked first at the bag; like a true child; but
most unfortunately; before she had yet received the fatal
gift; her eyes fell directly on M'Guire; and no sooner had
she seen the poor gentleman's face; than she screamed out and
leaped backward; as though she had seen the devil。 Almost at
the same moment a woman appeared upon the threshold of a
neighbouring shop; and called upon the child in anger。 'Come
here; colleen;' she said; 'and don't be plaguing the poor old
gentleman!' With that she re…entered the house; and the
child followed her; sobbing aloud。
With the loss of this hope M'Guire's reason swooned within
him。 When next he awoke to consciousness; he was standing
before St。 Martin's…in…the…Fields; wavering like a drunken
man; the passers…by regarding him with eyes in which he read;
as in a glass; an image of the terror and horror that dwelt
within his own。
'I am afraid you are very ill; sir;' observed a woman;
stopping and gazing hard in his face。 'Can I do anything to
help you?'
'Ill?' said M'Guire。 'O God!' And then; recovering some
shadow of his self…command; 'Chronic; madam;' said he: 'a
long course of the dumb ague。 But since you are so
compassionate … an errand that I lack the strength to carry
out;' he gasped … 'this bag to Portman Square。 Oh;
compassionate woman; as you hope to be saved; as you are a
mother; in the name of your babes that wait to welcome you at
home; oh; take this bag to Portman Square! I have a mother;
too;' he added; with a broken voice。 'Number 19; Portman
Square。'
I suppose he had expressed himself with too much energy of
voice; for the woman was plainly taken with a certain fear of
him。 'Poor gentleman!' said she。 'If I were you; I would go
home。' And she left him standing there in his distress。
'Home!' thought M'Guire; 'what a derision!' What home was
there for him; the victim of philanthropy? He thought of his
old mother; of his happy youth; of the hideous; rending pang
of the explosion; of the possibility that he might not be
killed; that he might be cruelly mangled; crippled for life;
condemned to lifelong pains; blinded perhaps; and almost
surely deafened。 Ah; you spoke lightly of the dynamiter's
peril; but even waiving death; have you realised what it is
for a fine; brave young man of forty; to be smitten suddenly
with deafness; cut off from all the music of life; and from
the voice of friendship; and love? How little do we realise
the sufferings of others! Even your brutal Government; in
the heyday of its lust for cruelty; though it scruples not to
hound the patriot with spies; to pack the corrupt jury; to
bribe the hangman; and to erect the infamous gallows; would
hesitate to inflict so horrible a doom: not; I am well
aware; from virtue; not from philanthropy; but with the fear
before it of the withering scorn of the good。
But I wander from M'Guire。 From this dread glance into the
past and future; his thoughts returned at a bound upon the
present。 How had he wandered there? and how long … oh;
heavens! how long had he been about it? He pulled out his
watch; and found that but three minutes had elapsed。 It
seemed too bright a thing to be believed。 He glanced at the
church clock; and sure enough; it marked an hour four minutes
faster than the watch。
Of all that he endured; M'Guire declares that pang was the
most desolate。 Till then; he had had one friend; one
counsellor; in whom he plenarily trusted; by whose
advertisement; he numbered the minutes that remained to him
of life; on whose sure testimony; he could tell when the time
was come to risk the last adventure; to cast the bag away
from him; a